


Climb Those First Steps

by Lohrendrell



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Hashirama and Madara meet in their mountain on a warm day.





	Climb Those First Steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UchihanoChidori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchihanoChidori/gifts).



> Another repost from y!Gal. I took a prompt from Debbie as a birthday gift for her :) I quite like this one, though I think I got lost on Hashirama's and Madara's characterization a bit there... Usually HashiMada is all angsty with me, so here's a cute teens first kiss for a change.

The sun was high and big in the sky; it was nearly midday already. The late morning was too hot, as if the summer days had already arrived, and that afternoon would be no different.

Hashirama climbed the last meters of the big mountain in the middle of the forest with droplets of sweat drenching all of his hair and face, dripping to his neck and clothes. Usually, he did that simple task in less than a minute, using his chakra, but he was all alone at that very moment, and they had agreed to not use chakra to climb their mountain when all alone. They didn’t want any ninjas from whatever clan to sense them and spoil their fun. They didn’t want anyone else in their mountain.

“You’re late,” was Madara’s greeting when Hashirama finally reached the top. He was sitting with his arms and legs crossed, eyeing Hashirama with a tiny pout and a whole lot of resentment.

Hashirama dried the sweat on his forehead with his shirt. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, “I meant to come earlier but–”

“I didn’t mean today,” Madara rudely interrupted, “I meant yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that, and before that too.” His eyes measured Hashirama from up to down, as if analyzing him. “At first, I thought something had happened, but no word came in my clan about any slaughters, so I knew it hadn’t.”

Hashirama arched an eyebrow. Now that was a weird thing for a clan to keep tabs on the others. Not even his father, who was the most despicable war strategist Hashirama ever knew, did that to the other clans. Uchiha, Hashirama thought, the only ones who could possibly be interested in such thing.

The thought, however, of Madara belonging to the Uchiha Clan depressed him, so he decided to ignore it altogether.

“No slaughters, no,” he said slowly, sitting down beside Madara. “But something did happen!” he added, cheerfully.

Unmoving, Madara just looked at him.

Hashirama buffed. “Ask me what happened.”

“Why? Just tell me.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot!” He pushed Madara with not too much of force, just enough to unbalance him a little bit. “You have to ask me what happened, and then I’ll tell you. Ask me.”

Madara said nothing.

“Ask me,” he insisted with his normal tone of voice first, and then with a yell: “Ask me!”

“Alright, alright,” Madara yelled back. “Fuck.” He rolled his eyes to show all his annoyance. “What the fuck happened?”

“A wedding!” Hashirama answered, happy.

“…So?”

“What so? So it was a wedding,” Hashirama reasoned. “A special date! To celebrate love and life!”

“You’re saying you went missing for four days because of a wedding?”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean. It’s a wedding, y’know? A good and prosperous wedding must last at least four days, my father always says. Or else it won’t bring good and prosperous times for the clan.”

Madara looked down, absorbing the information. “What a stupid tradition,” he concluded.

“Hey! That’s my clan you’re talking about,” Hashirama warned. “How long do weddings last in your clan, anyway?”

“A day,” Madara answered, “even less. A few hours.”

“No way,” Hashirama exclaimed, horrified. “No wonder you’re so stuck up. Your clan’s parties must suck!”

Madara turned to him with more than just a little annoyance in his voice: “Careful,” he warned, grabbing Hashirama’s sleeve. “Now you’re the one talking about my clan.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Hashirama shrugged off the grip in his clothes. “Anyway, why is it so short? What do you even celebrate about, anyway?”

“We don’t celebrate, really,” Madara said. “Two clan members join their blood and their strength to breed more blood and strength to the clan, and vow to protect and teach the new members until they can be called true Uch–shinobi. That’s all there is. As it should be. There’s nothing special to celebrate.”

The slip almost went missing to Hashirama. Almost. He wished it had, though, so he shook his head, tugging it to the back of his mind. “You should see the Uzumaki Clan weddings,” he said, trying to change the subject a little. “Their parties last weeks, even a whole month if it’s the clan heads who are getting married.”

Madara eyed him for a few, but very long, moments. “You’re not Uzumaki,” he whispered, finally, more to himself than to Hashirama hear, and only then Hashirama noticed his own mistake.

“No, I’m not,” he relented, quietly. “Neither are you.”

Madara kept eyeing him, but said nothing else. He just got up, took a few steps to the side and took instance for a typical fight. “Come on,” he said, “I want to practice some new moves.”

Hashirama couldn’t hide the smile of relief. Quickly, he got up and took position. And so they sparred for an entire afternoon.

Afterwards, when the sun was nearly settling down and both of them were sprawled on the ground, dirty, exhausted, dripping with sweat and smiling with satisfaction, Hashirama had the heart to tell the truth to his friend.

“I won’t he here for another four days,” he announced between pants.

“Another wedding?” Madara asked, sitting down so he could look at Hashirama. When he confirmed, he said, “Sucks to be you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hashirama protested, “I like weddings. They’re quite nice, with all the party, the decoration, the food…” He paused, glanced at his friend. “…The kiss…”

The other boy turned to him, then, and Hashirama felt his cheeks warming up.

“I-I mean, I… Not that I ever tried, b-but. Y’know! It’s good!”

“How do you know it’s good if you never tried?”

“I don’t know! I just do, okay? The adults do it, so it must be good.”

Madara scoffed.

“Aw, c’mon, as if you know anything! Have you ever kissed before?”

“No, of course not,” Madara said, turning his back to him.

“Well, then, wouldn’t you like to try it?”

There was no answer at first, but slowly Madara turned around, glancing sideways at him.

Hashirama approached him. “Wanna try it? With me?”

Madara’s eyes widened for a moment, and he quickly looked somewhere else. “Y-you mean here? Now? Together?”

Hashirama nodded. He took another couple of steps, until he was face to face to his best friend. “Here. Now. Together.” He took Madara’s dirty, bruised hand in his, and then felt his courage falter. “I-I mean, if you want it, o-of course, I m-mean, you don’t have to, I just thought– Aren’t you curious? I know I am! And if you–”

“Alright.”

Hashirama stopped. “W-what?”

Madara was looking at him in the eyes now, and his cheeks were a deep shade of red. “Alright,” he repeated. “I’m curious. Let’s do it.”

“Oh, Uh…” Hashirama paused, squeezes Madara’s hand. He squeezed back, and Hashirama nodded. “Okay, uh. Close your eyes.”

Madara did as he was told. With his hand sweaty and his heart beating fast, Hashirama decided to do it just as he’d seen the newly-wed couples doing so many times.

Slowly, he leaned forward until his mouth reached Madara’s. It was a simple yet weird feeling, to have his lips touching someone else’s. Still, it made the butterflies dance in his stomach. Madara’s lips were warm and soft, and Hashirama unconsciously moved his own a little bit so he could feel them better.

It might have lasted no more than half a minute, but his heart was racing like crazy when they pulled back. Hashirama opened his eyes to see Madara gazing at him a bit funny. His eyes were shining, his mouth slightly open, and his face completely flushed.

He wouldn’t hide his grin even if it was asked of him.

“That was…” Hashirama started, but wasn’t able to finish.

“Yeah,” Madara agreed, nodded, looked down. Their hand were still together, and they stayed that way for a good amount of time.

It was hot, though, and their hands were sweating, so eventually they broke the contact. By that moment, the sky was already darkening, and they had to go back home.

“Madara,” Hashirama started, but didn’t have to finish. Madara nodded, understanding, and they gave their backs to each other. No words were exchanged, but they didn’t feel necessary at all.

Going down the mountain with chakra was easy, as usual, but it was the first time, as he did that, that Hashirama felt like he was flying.


End file.
